Raised by wolves
by Shyria
Summary: In the Esca movie, Folken found Dilandau amongst the Wild Dogs. This is the story of his life before Folken found him, and how he grew to be the crazy captain we all know and love. ~.^
1. Running Wild

The sun rose high over a huge expanse of sand, casting a wave of blinding heat over the already scorched land. There were not many that could survive in such harsh conditions. Most of the denizens of the desert were asleep in a moist cave or buried far underneath the sand were it was cool from the last rain. This was not the way of the wild dogs. Here, their kind was King.  
  
  
  
A young boy dug in the sand, his thin fingers curling into the steaming grains and tossing them aside with eager abandon. His mouth was wrung up in a strange expression of glee, garnet eyes flashing as he worked. The boy was lean and bony, his fair skin tanned to a golden sheen. He wore only the skin of a dead wild dog draped over his shoulders and tied around his waist. There were spots in which the fur and flesh had worn away, and the peach of his skin showed through. It was no matter… He would get himself a new body, once Jasiri got up the guts to challenge him. That dog was nothing more than a boastful coward. The boy knew full well that his intelligence and superior agility would easily conquer his opponent. Then it would be he who wore Jasiri's skin. The others would smell his scent, they would know that he had won, and their respect for him would double.  
  
Finally, the tip of a green object poked up above the sand. The boy slid his hands under it carefully and lifted it from the small pit. Grains fell away in tiny waterfalls as he brought it upwards. The shell of a poison lizard; they were not common around this part of the territory. It was likely someone had killed it elsewhere and dragged it here to eat, taking the soft meat inside and leaving the shell. The boy grinned, brushing dirty silver hair from his eyes. How stupid they must have been to leave behind such a treasure. Although…what use would it be to a true wild dog? His grin faded rapidly at the thought. He knew he was not one of them. He belonged to the race of hairless pink creatures that walked upright. They were spotted in the desert on occasion, usually astride a tamed beast. The boy groaned and clutched the shell closer, letting loose a mournful howl that echoed across the barren sand. No, they were not his kin. He was a child of the wild dogs and would so prove his ability to run with the strongest of their pack.  
  
Yet, that was for later. Now was the time to satisfy his hunger… Now was the time to hunt.  
  
The shell came in handy, as he had known it would. The shape of the shell fit his small palm with ease, the backbone serving as a grip. With this new weapon, it was simple to kill his prey by stabbing it with the deadly spike on the top. Somehow, he found it more satisfying then strangling the unfortunate creature… Drawing blood became intoxicating to him after each kill, and soon he invented new ways to take his prey's life… Slower ways, quicker ways-- all of which gave him an immense sense of power and perverse delight. The others killed only enough to eat their fill, and so had the boy done in past days. But, on this hunt, he left behind a number of bodies uneaten.  
  
Howls of greeting rang out from the distance. It was not long before pack mates of his age were loping towards him, finished with their hunts as well. They cackled and called his name, tails swinging behind them. The boy's name was 'D', a fragment of a human name he once owned. It was pronounced "Dee" in human tongue, but it sounded more like "Drrr" from their canine mouths.  
  
The other dogs circled him, sniffing and yapping at their fellow victorious hunter. Yasir tackled him playfully, and batted at his hair. D grinned and gave a mock-growl, nudging Yasir's belly with his feet. The other tumbled off of him and into a playful fighting stance. D was glad to comply. He kneeled in the sand on hands and knees, offering another growl. Calluses had grown on his knees over his years of running on them, thick skin protecting them from the rough, hot sand. Yasir jumped forward and snapped at the ear of his fur covering. D bared his teeth in a slack jawed grin in response. Although this was they Wild Dog's way of showing aggression, the other did not react accordingly. Yasir, instead of baring his teeth back at D to compare, merely tilted his head to one side. A jeering laugh came from the spectators of this little scene.  
  
It took D a minute to realize that they were laughing at him. His teeth… His hand flew to his mouth, probing the teeth he already knew to be dull and flat inside. A burning rage came to his eyes and this others continued to mock his lack of sharp canines.  
  
"Shut up! I'll kill you all someday…" he snarled in the tongue of the Wild Dog.  
  
"Not with those teeth," Yasir snickered, as he and his pack mate began to disperse, leaving D alone again.  
  
"Maybe not with my teeth…" D muttered. "Something far more powerful." 


	2. Unwilling Captive

The temperature had risen a few murderous degrees by the next day, discouraging any activity amongst the pack. It was far too hot to do anything but sweat and try to move as little as possible. D had found himself a coveted space under a rare patch of shade. Leaning back against the sheltering rock, he thought over yesterday's incident… Things would have to change. D did not appreciate being mocked, especially when mating season was so close at hand. He absolutely had to get his new body before that time came. The females would no longer accept the ratty old skin that hung around him. That kill was made long ago and only a fresh one would be able to renew their interest in him. Not that there had been much in the first place…  
  
Another reason for the others to taunt him. He had never been popular with the females of the pack, mainly because, underneath the wild dog skin, they could still make out the strange scent of the hairless pink thing… None of them were attracted to that scent. Silently, D still wondered why his mother had taken him in when he was only a small hairless thing? He /must/ be a Wild Dog… A dog, trapped in the body of a man.  
  
D toyed with his new weapon, fitting the pointed shell over his palm and slashing at the air. Did the hairless pink men bleed the same color? He wanted to test this theory and find out, for it wouldn't be much fun if the blood wasn't red. The color red excited him… It had to be red… He could try it on himself, but he was far too afraid. What if he bled a different color then that of his pack mates? They'd drive him away, just like all the other pink men who'd ventured into their territory. D lowered the shell and looked up at the sky, squinting in the blinding rays of the sun.  
  
That's when they all heard it. Ears perked and growls bubbled in the throats of the others; their lethargy disappearing as soon as they realized that something was coming. The sound was a steady beat on the sand, something with four legs and tough feet. D recognized it at the same time Yasir did, and they were both the first to react. The intruder was a horse, hopefully alone. One horse would be easy to bring down, and it would be sure to feed the entire pack. D ran after Yasir, trying to keep up with the other's easy four-legged gait. He was handicapped by the fact that he ran on his knees, which had no toes to help dig into the ground and propel him forward. The shell was an extra burden as well, clenched precariously between his teeth by the horn. D fully intended to kill this horse himself, without Yasir's help. The stunt would be extremely impressive to the pack and extremely pleasurable for him all at the same time.  
  
The horse was not alone, much to he and Yasir's dismay. The equine had a rider- a tall biped dressed in a long black cloak that covered his face and body. Yasir snarled as they approached. The rider dismounted and stared down at both wolf and boy, his gaze oddly chilling. D decided instantly that, whoever he was, he did not like this person.  
  
"Look! It is your long lost father!" Yasir cackled in Dog tongue, "The pink thing has come to get rid of your stupid hide."  
  
D's eyes flashed fire, his hand becoming a blur. All at once, the shell was in place, and this arm came down, the spike aimed at Yasir. A feral snarl of rage ripped from the boy's throat as he slashed the dog three times upon the flank. Yasir was too stunned to block any of his blows, yipping in pain and anger. The stranger watched with obvious amusement as D pulled back in triumph. The wounded dog was preparing for a counter attack, and might have well succeeded in snapping his teeth down around D's throat if the stranger had not spoken.  
  
"Come."  
  
Yasir hesitated at the sound of the deep voice, his mistrust returning for the intruder. D, on the other hand, was fascinated with the sound. He glanced at the red blood on the spike of his shell- Yasir's blood- and then up at the black-cloaked man. Time to test his theory. D jumped at the same time the man's hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm. Startled by the grip on his arm, D struggled in the air, dangling like a pup from its mother's mouth. The stranger laughed. His arm alone was strong enough to lift D off the ground, and the boy's wriggling was doing nothing to dislodge him. The man merely thrust D onto the back of his horse and remounted it.  
  
"Your talents are wasted here. It is time for a new life."  
  
D had no time to struggle before the needle of a syringe pierced the flesh of his neck. Once the substance was injected he felt instantly weak and exhausted. Flopped across the broad back of the stranger's horse, arms dangling helplessly, D was witness to a snickering Yasir before he blacked out. 


	3. Soul Spark

The door opened with a small creak as Folken entered the room, the limp body of a boy hanging in his arms. D's limbs spilled over the sides of the man's grip, his head bouncing slightly as it titled backwards. His captor moved to a small bed on the left side of the room, letting D gently tumble out of his arms and onto the sheets. He moaned softly at this, still not quite conscious. Folken regarded the boy's lean frame, inspecting the tight knots of muscles around his arms and legs. Gingerly, he tugged at a few strands of D's silver hair, both amused and curious about the color. A lot of things would have to change. With time, he would mold the Dog- Child into a warrior for the Black Dragon Clan. Folken cast one last glance at the boy, who was now curled into a position reminiscent of sleeping animal.  
  
"Welcome to the human world."  
  
  
  
D awoke to darkness, his mind becoming alert as soon as his eyes had opened. He scrambled around on the bed, panicked and unable to remember what had transpired since the arrival of the stranger. Recollection dawned on him slowly… D's long nails caught on the fabric of the sheets and he kicked at them furiously. How dare this pink man kidnap him like a Saber- Cat raiding the den of a mother Dog? The boy scanned his body for wounds and was very surprised to find that he was uninjured. Upon bringing his arm up, he noticed that they have left him his spike shell weapon. D's lips drew back in a feral smirk. How stupid of them… Now he would kill them all and escape from here. How arrogant the pink men must be that they left one of his kind with a dangerous weapon. Soon, he figured, he would know the answer to his question… 'What color did the hairless pink men bleed?'  
  
D performed a quick assessment of the room he was trapped in, sniffing the floor, the walls, the door, and the bed. The material was foreign to him… He found he could not break the walls with his fist, nor scratch the floor with his nails. The door would not open when he pushed or pulled on it. D eyed the strange device that kept it shut, unable to understand how it worked just yet… He was patient… He always figured things out if he took the time to think hard about them…  
  
The other mystery of the room was the source of light. An orange flame spouted from a small tube, casting flickering shadows on the wall behind him. D sat on the floor, staring up at the strange object as it danced for him in the darkness. Wide crimson eyes remained pinned to the body of light, a deep feeling stirring in his soul as it burned. D had never seen something as beautiful as the tiny flame… Shells shined in the rays of the desert sun, but never so brightly as this creature… Curiosity soon overwhelmed him and he reached out a thin finger to touch it. He pulled back with a screech of pain as the fire licked his finger, leaving a small burnt mark on the skin. D growled and thrust his entire hand towards the flame, planning on grabbing the creature that had it bit him by the throat. Again, it eluded his grasp, leaving his palm hot and stinging.  
  
"What is this...?" He said softly to himself. "It bites, but I cannot catch it…" D stared at his hand, marveling as the pain continued long after the flame had touched him. His eyes grew wide and his expression solemn.  
  
"Strange power… I'll make you mine," he vowed.  
  
  
  
**Ugh, Hiya Readers! You guys have been great… I'm taking this space to apologize for all the grammar or spelling mistakes I've made X_x;… I often forget to spell check my work… This chapter is a bit short compared to the others… It's likely I'll write more of it later on. ^_^ 


	4. Wonderful Discovery

At the end of the day a man in uniform pushed aside the heavy metal door, a small tray of food clutched in his hand. He was not at all expecting what he found waiting for him inside. D sat cross-legged on the floor before a raging fire that had once been bed sheets. The man took one look at the flaming square and the boy's maniacal grin and fled the room, dropping the tray behind him. D gave a quiet snicker in tune with the crackle of the fire and ambled over to the fumbled food. Most of it was unfamiliar to D, the vegetables and jelly completely unidentifiable to him… There was a small slab of meat and this he snatched up and took with him back towards the fire.  
  
"No blood?" he said to himself, picking at the neatly cut piece of meat. It was not even wet… D suspected it was not fresh, but upon sniffing it, he discovered that it was neither old nor spoiled.  
  
"Where's the fun in that?" he wondered. The boy snapped his teeth down around the tough steak, succeeding in tearing a piece from it. It tasted different from the meat he would tear from the bodies of wild rabbits… And yet, he found that he still enjoyed the flavor. His mind finally made up, D speared the remaining meat with the spike of his shell and continued chewing on it. It wasn't long before the flickering flames caught his attention again. They jumped and sparked furiously, almost as if they wished to share his meal.  
  
"Heh… You hungry, too?" he asked, grinning at his fire. D had been amazed at the speed with which the fire had devoured the sheets once he'd touched them to the small flame from the spout. This fire was a voracious creature… He leaned over until the speared meat hung in the middle of the flames, unable to repress a little snicker. The flames licked at his offering greedily as he watched. Unfortunately, the heat was becoming a little too much for his arm and he had to draw it back. D gave the fire a warning glare.  
  
"You can't eat me," he growled, holding his stinging arm. To his surprise, the meat on the end of the spike was now a deep black in color. D tilted his head and sniffed at it, drawing in the strange scent… The boy's tongue darted out of his mouth, licking around the edges of his lips… The smell of the burnt meat was almost intoxicating… Deciding he rather liked this fire creature, he tossed the black morsel into it and sat back to watch it flare up again. A soft sigh escaped his throat. He hadn't realized how tired he was… Here he was alone… D flopped on his side beside the fire, wishing he could hear the familiar howls of his pack mates before they retired to their dens at night. At least it was no longer pitch dark in the little room they had trapped him in. The boy's mouth gaped in a wide yawn and he let his eyes slid shut to the sight of dancing flames…  
  
Meanwhile, Folken had just finished listening to his nervous soldier's report… An amused smirk curved around the lean features of his face.  
  
"So, man has made fire, has he?" he chuckled softly to himself. "Perhaps it will be easier then I thought to convert him to civilization…. His mind is still sharp and inquisitive…" Folken shook his head and dismissed the solider, leaning back against the cushion of the hardwood thrown he sat upon.  
  
"What a wonderful human he will make."  
  
**Is it me or are my chapter's getting steadily shorter? Eep… Sorry about the shortness again, folks… And thanks again for reading and reviewing. It's most definitely your wonderful reviews that keep me writing this story… ^_^ 


	5. Language Gap

The next morning, although if it were really morning, D could not be sure, men's voices behind the metal door awakened him. The boy squinted in the darkness, noticing regretfully that his fire had burnt itself out. Why were there no open spaces or windows here? It felt extremely unnatural to D, who had spent his whole life under the blazing rays of the desert sun. The door creaked open slightly, and there was more chattering amongst the men before it finally swung open its full length. This allowed for a creature to step inside that D had never seen before. He had the form and bipedal stance of a human, but his features were clearly of the dog persuasion. The boy gaped at the fangs that hung outside this contradictory creature's mouth. He was not entirely sure as to how to react.  
  
The dog-man caught his gaze and smiled warmly. Then he turned back to the two soldiers behind him and said a few words in their language. They looked more then happy to leave when he dismissed them, the sound of their boots on the floor soon becoming a distant series of taps. The dog-man turned his attention back to D and laughed. He had the barking laugh of a hyena, which comforted D slightly. Still, he was not to be caught off guard be these men and their tricks. He raised his arm, holding the shell between him and the stranger. His crimson eyes mirrored distrust and confusion.  
  
"I know it is hard for you to understand what is happening around you. It is not fair that you be left at such a disadvantage," the dog-man said in a gentle voice.  
  
D recognized his comforting tone, but still did not understand the words he spoke. They were the same as the man who had captured him and the soldiers in the hallway. D's lip curled up in a small snarl, his leg muscles tensing. The dog-man seemed to sigh. This time when his long jaw opened, it was a series of grunts and growls that issued forth. The boy's ears perked in surprise as he was addressed in the language of the Wild Dogs.  
  
"They were afraid of you. That is why they ran so fast."  
  
D snickered, remembering the frightened looks on the faces of the guards that had brought this Dog-Man here.  
  
"Of course they were. Me and my new creature are unstoppable," D replied, dropping into a more relaxed position. He tossed his head haughtily, giving the ears of the dog skin a waggle. His company looked amused, if not a little confused.  
  
"Ah, your new creature? I am assuming you are referring to fire," the dog- man said. He glanced at D's posture and took a seat on the floor.  
  
"Fire? Is that its name?" the boy asked, with a snappish tone to his voice.  
  
"Well, yes and no. It is not alive, young one. It is… it is like a piece of the desert sun," the stranger explained.  
  
D gave him a dubious look. The boy sank back on his heals and examined the point of his weapon. He had no reason to believe anything this stranger said, especially since his words might all be a trick devised by the men. The only thing that kept him from ignoring the Dog-Man completely was the fact that he spoke the tongue of the Wild Dog. Thoughtfully, D scraped the point against the hard floor, producing a high squeal.  
  
"I can see you don't trust me anymore then your captors," the Dog-Man said, his eyes roving over D. "Here now, let me give you a reason."  
  
He scooted closer and set his huge paw-fingers on D's shoulder. Stunned and angered by the action, D pulled away, instinctively rearing down to bite at the hand. His teeth closed hard around the thick flesh, the muscles in his jaw bunching. There was no sound from the Dog-Man, only a shake of his head, which sent tendrils of his long mane flying out in all directions.  
  
"My name is Jajuka. I can teach you the language of Men. You don't want the disadvantage of ignorance, do you?" he said quietly.  
  
D's eyes widened slightly, but he refused to let go. Not until he drew blood.  
  
"They'll let you out when I am finished. At perhaps they will give you a weapon," Jajuka continued, smiling and gesturing to D's spiked shell.  
  
"A weapon even better then your makeshift claw."  
  
The boy's grip on his hand began to loosen as his words suddenly became of interest. There was nothing more D wanted then to get out of this dark prison and back into the light. Foolish men, they would give him a weapon? Didn't they know they were begging for death? D's teeth pulled out of Jajuka's skin, leaving a row of marks between the tufts of hair.  
  
A smirk was quick to form as his teeth closed together. Instead of Jasiri, he would take the skin of Yasir instead. Though not as esteemed as the latter, Yasir had made their fight personal over the years with his merciless teasing. How sweet a victory it would be to see the dead dog's paws flop around his arms. Jajuka interrupted his thoughts of bloody conflict.  
  
"You have the spirit of a true Wild Dog. Don't ever let it go," he said, giving D a smile as he stood. With a wave, he was gone, leaving D alone in his dark little room. The boy was caught off guard by his compliment… A genuine grin swept his features, a sense of pride rekindling in his soul. His fingers roamed upward and stroked at the silky ear of the dog skin draped over his back. Those were his real ears, not the shriveled pink things that stuck like parasites to either side of his head. D closed his eyes and listened through his real ears… to the dark… to his true spirit….  
  
He would learn from men, but he would not become one. They would never know how badly they were being taken advantage of. 


	6. Water Marks

The events of the following day were not pleasant. D was dragged from a deep sleep by a pair of men who wrestled him bodily out of the chamber. The struggle would have lasted longer if they hadn't managed to manacle his hands together. Unable to maneuver as quickly, D was forced to allow them to shove him down the hallway like a dog on a leash. The hand-cuffs prevented him from walking on all fours, humiliation beginning to burn in his cheeks as they made him shuffle along on his back legs like a human. It was extremely troublesome and it hurt his spine to stretch so far upward. The soles of his feet were arched improperly for walking and he lacked the coordination to balance himself. D's hatred for men grew by the second.  
  
Eventually they came to a large room tiled from top to bottom with polished white squares. A line of stalls stretched across the west wall, and it was to these that he was led. A soft growl bubbled in D's throat as his suspicion rose. He was shoved roughly into one of the stalls, where the two humans pulled his dog skin from him, revealing soft pink flesh beneath. D's growl became a hiss and then an outraged snarl as he lunged to recover the pelt. His fingernails caught on the fur just as they managed to yank it away, causing them to split and tear. The boy cried out in pain and fury as his fingers bled from the loss of their nails. The men took that opportunity to slam the stall door shut and lock it in place.  
  
D hurled himself against the door, which was a clear pane of thick glass, his body making a sick 'thud' on impact. Confused and further humiliated, he scratched frantically at the glass as the two men stared, safe on the other side. His hands left smeary trails of blood on the pane as he continued to beat it, crimson stains smudging on his bare skin and in his hair. His anger soon exhausted him, and he slid down to his haunches on the cold tile, staring daggers at the men as he breathed heavily. Ribs poked from his sides and knots of muscles rippled on his arms. The glass reflected a dim apparition of himself, showing the boy just what he had feared. Stripped down to his core, he was merely a hunched pink thing, without hair, ears, nor tail. Red-ringed pupils glared back at him above a stubby nose and a thin mouth. D lowered his head, unshed tears stinging in his eyes. The men had torn away his pride, his identity, and his very being. He curled up against the side of the unfamiliar, cold tiles of the stall and wept.  
  
"You can't have lost your spirit this quickly, Wild One."  
  
D turned as the deep voice echoed throughout the room. At the entrance he saw a man approach with unkempt green hair and black attire. He recognized him as the same human that had stolen him from the desert on the back of a horse.  
  
Suddenly, a fine spray of water began to rain down on him, causing D to yelp and scramble about in the claustrophobic stall. He was trapped and there was no way he could escape the water, which was devastatingly cold. Thin silver hair matted down around his eyes and ears. D expressed his hatred of this strange treatment with a low snarl and a howl that rung throughout the bathroom.  
  
To his surprise, he was answered back by a gentler yip. Blinking droplets from his eyes, D stared through the glass past the tall man's shoulder and discovered the Dog-Man from before behind him.  
  
"You won't be hurt. This is just a bath," the other explained.  
  
D found that explanation hard to believe. Water was a luxury that the Wild Dog's rarely got to partake of. Baths were either a roll in the sand or a friendly tongue. This was just plain horrible. He was drenched, shivering, and stuck in a tall box-like container. D decided early on that he had a strong dislike for water.  
  
Suddenly, he felt Jajuka's large paws wrap around his waist gently. D was too startled to react quick enough to dodge, and it was likely he would have ended up slipping anyway. The Beast man put a rough cloth to D's back and moved it about up and down with gentle care. It felt much the same as his mother's tongue, though larger and wetter, and had the effect of calming the boy in this unfamiliar environment.  
  
Folken seemed pleased with the situation, as he soon left Jajuka to finish unsupervised. The experience wasn't as agonizing with the men gone and the dog-man worked quickly to spare him of spending more time in the water chamber. Finally, Jajuka withdrew from the shower door and allowed D to come out into the main section of the bathroom.  
  
"Careful," he cautioned in their language, "The tile is slippery."  
  
D set a hand outside of the horrid water box and slowly brought his other limbs over the threshold. He rather disliked being wet, especially without his dog skin, as it left him cold and matted his silver hair about his neck and face. He set himself to the task of shaking vigorously to rid himself of the water. Jajuka seemed amused by this action that he considered perfectly normal.  
  
"What's so funny?" D snapped, a lock of hair hanging over his right eye. The dog man's laughter was a low rumble in his throat, and his gaze was a twinkle. He tossed a large towel over D in reply, and turned to leave. The boy yipped in surprise and struggled until he could poke his head from the towel and see Jajuka heading towards the door.  
  
"Learn to walk upright," Jajuka said, turning his head to grin at D. "Or else you'll never be able to look me in the eye." The rumbling laughter came again mingled with a snort as D grudgingly began rubbing himself dry. 


End file.
